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SHE/HER

Nov. 17th, 2014 10:12 pm
mxmories: pusheen the cat eating ramen (Default)
 

I cradled my cup of coffee to my chest as I watched you kiss her.

All I hope is that she gives you the same chills she gave me,

running up and down our spines like favorite poetry.


I hope you grow to understand that she is poetry herself,

and her curves and imperfections should become your favorite lines and stanzas.


I hope she still dips her tongue the same shy, adorable way when she kisses.
I hope she still has her same nervous ticks,

like curling her fingers through her hair.

I hope her heart is still as soft and pure as the day she left.


Because those pieces of her are what make her the most beautiful.


Her broken fingernails she swears are too dirty and split ends she’s been too lazy to cut out are intricate and gorgeously rich.


And that is what you must treasure the most.
Fill her empty soul and mend her broken heart.
Make her whole again,

because I sure didn’t.


Remember that she is art.

To be studied,

To be analyzed,

To be learned,
To be appreciated,
To be adored,
To be loved.


Loved.


I can only hope you love her more than I did.

PARTS II

Nov. 17th, 2014 09:57 pm
mxmories: pusheen the cat eating ramen (Default)
 

“high romanticism shows you nature in all its harsh

and lovely metamorphoses. flood, fire and quake fling us

back to the primal struggle for survival and reveal our gross

dependency on mammoth, still mysterious forces.”

— camille paglia

 


 

you helped me assemble myself

piece by piece,

moment by moment,

every painstaking memory by painstaking memory.

you didn’t just glue my frail, thin self back together, dear,

you rebuilt it from the ground up.

you touched my heart in ways no one has ever even bothered to.

you touched my skin in a way that felt like snow,

gently grazing against someone’s cheek on a cold day.

it was soothing.

it was calm.

you put the storm inside of me to rest;

you were the eye of my hurricane.

initially, life became sepia,

regaining warm brown hues after being stuck in black and white for so long.

then, you transformed me to a technicolor masterpiece,

like a child’s first finger painting.

i know it sounds cliche.

i know that no one can truly touch my soul.

i know i am unequivocally, absolutely,

entirely, alone in this universe.

but our  infinite lonelinesses combined

make for a very beautiful, solemn scene.

life is like a lone, empty hole we fill.

we stuff it to the brim with memories, experiences,

and wondrous love.

you shine similarly to diamonds,

though your outside seems bulletproof,

like a rich mineral being tested in a laboratory,

you refuse to break.

you keep me strong.

you make me feel big in such a small world.

i feel nearly invincible now that you’re beside me.

you didn’t even need a blueprint.

you’re the perfect freehand engineer my heart needed.

i love it.

you gingerly reassembled my body,

similar to the way a sculptor molds his famous statues,

making me feel more like a masterpiece than i ever have.

you helped me realize that i,

i can be lovely, too.

i can be poetic and artistic.

i can be smart and witty.

i can be pretty and admirable.

and i damn sure am worthy of love

and attention

and devotion

and someone who will stay not because they have to,

but because they want to.

because i can be compelling and mysterious.

i can be worthy

i can be.

because of you.

— m.jarnot

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madi(son)

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